The Labyrinth
by DanaeM
Summary: This story is loosly based on the movie... it's basically what I thought would make a more interesting plot.
1. And So It Begins

Thank you so much to those who've reviewed my story! Please, keep reviewing! Also, this is NOT the complete story!! I'll be adding more to it as I have time. I'm very busy (yet aren't we all?). Thanks again.  
  
Also, I've received a couple reviews that point out that my story is a lot like the original movie script. Bravo, you know your Labyrinth trivia. All I can say is that if you read my entire story (or what exists of it thus far), you will find that I haven't copied the original.  
  
1  
  
Some stories are too fantastically absurd to be believed. Such stories are usually assumed to be the concoctions of an eccentric recluse with too much time to spare. Be forewarned that this is one of those stories.  
  
What is it that you think about in the darkest hours of the day, lying quietly in your bed? Moments like those are devoted to our most precious, secret thoughts; our most imaginative thoughts, those thoughts that could never gain tangibility in the eyes of others. Sarah's mind was filled with these sorts of thoughts, only hers were so elaborate and intense that the small space they occupied in her conscious threatened to burst at any moment. One day the space pulsed especially hard, until it could no longer hold the labyrinth that swelled inside.  
  
Sarah's environment was what finally let the labyrinth loose. No one understood the dark complexities of her character, including her parents who had apparently given up years ago trying to understand their daughters inferior behavior.  
  
Toby, her infant brother, was the perfect child. He didn't have the mental capacity for genuine thought, let alone the thoughts that occupied the enlarging space in his big sisters mind. He was the product of the marriage between Sarah's father and her stepmother, whom he married after Sarah's mother's untimely death. Only five years old at the time of her mother's death, Sarah couldn't understand why her mother had left her, and would never forgive her father for remarrying two years later.  
  
One must understand that nothing about Toby himself was exceptionally bad. Ironically, Sarah hated Toby because nothing about him was exceptional at all. Cute, un-complex, Toby's parents loved him because they had an uncomplicated time understanding him.  
  
Sarah had known she was different ever since she could remember having thoughts. The only sense of stability and fulfillment Sarah experienced was through the arts. Her deepest emotions were displayed through the characters she portrayed in theatre. But the fulfillment she once felt as she bowed time and time again before an applauding audience dwindled over time, and now not even this could save her from the labyrinths engulfing consumption. On this day, Sarah could no longer ignore its incessant beckoning.  
  
"Give me the child! Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great." Sarah's passionate voice resonated through the cold outdoor air.  
  
She wore a simple, white dress, a flowered tiara gracefully adorning her head. On any other girl, this costume would have looked juvenile, but in it Sarah looked like something from a fairy tale, her thick, dark hair cascading in graceful curls below her shoulders, her dark eyes further deepened by the dress' stark whiteness. The trees surrounding the vast backyard and a shaggy mutt were her only audience, listening patiently as she came upon the line she could never remember. Merlin, a gentle giant of a dog, was purchased by her parents as one of their more good-natured attempts at normalizing their strange little girl. Sarah loved Merlin, yet hated him just the same because of the purpose for which he was purchased.  
  
"For my will is as strong as yours... my kingdom is great... Oh! I can never remember that line." She held the script in front of her nose, carefully studying her lines with a concentrated expression and furrowed brow.  
  
"You have no power over me." She said, lowering her script, determined next time to recite the play the whole way through without cheating. Just as she did so, the nearby old church clock rang the hour and Merlin barked to call her attention.  
  
"Oh Merlin, I can't believe it! It's seven o'clock!" she said as the gentle clanging of the bell brought her back to reality.  
  
What was first just a drizzle of rain quickly became a downpour, beating down on both Sarah and Merlin who followed right behind her. She ran as fast as her feet could take her, knowing in frustration what awaited her once she reached the house. Dripping with rain, her dress clung clumsily to her jeans and the tiara atop her head drooped pathetically to one side. She finally reached the front door and stopped dead in her tracks... her stepmother opened the door.  
  
"Sarah! Where have you been?!" her stepmother inquired in a most aghast tone. Where does it look like I've been? Sarah thought, not daring to say it out loud. Instead, she walked right past her stepmother, her wet dress coming dangerously close to brushing her stepmother's crisply pressed trousers.  
  
"You're late. Don't ignore me, Sarah! Where have you been?" her stepmother boomed as she ascended the stairs. The actress in Sarah could not help but take over. "I cannot talk to you now. I am in rehearsal." She said, continuing her grand ascent.  
  
"You were supposed to be here an hour ago to baby sit Toby."  
  
"Reprimand not an actress at her moment of inspiration!" Sarah continued, leaning over the balcony in her highly affected tone. Her father entered the room, violently buttoning his jacket in a show of dominance.  
  
"Sarah, that is no way to talk to your mother!" he hollered in his pretentious voice, a voice Sarah noticed he had acquired after marrying her stepmother.  
  
"She's not my mother." Sarah mumbled, secretly hoping her stepmother had heard her. At that moment, Sarah's theatrical confidence visibly left her. She quickly retreated to her room; her safe haven. Closing the door behind her, she stood and observed herself in the full length mirror just across the room, letting out a heavy sigh at the sight of her disheveled appearance. She unzipped the back of her dress, pushed it down around her feet and stepped to the side of it, unzipping her jeans and then stepping out of them in the same practiced fashion. She pulled out her dresser drawer and put on the first pair of jeans and long sleeved t-shirt she grabbed. Buttoning her jeans, she listlessly surveyed the shelves of alphabetized books and stuffed animals lining the walls. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and her thick brows lowered.  
  
"Somebody's been in my room!" she said, stomping across the room to examine an empty space on her dresser.  
  
"Sarah? Can we talk for a minute?" her father said through the door.  
  
"There's nothing to talk about!" Sarah said, shouting louder than necessary for her father to hear her.  
  
Her father opened the door and walked in quietly, like a little mouse who'd been scared.  
  
"Where's Lancelot?" Sarah asked. Her father decided to ignore her question completely. He didn't know who Lancelot was, and Sarah knew he didn't care.  
  
"We'll be back by twelve. Ok, sweetheart?" her father said, gently running his fingers through her hair and kissing the crown of her head.  
  
"I left the Jones' number on the kitchen table." Her stepmother yelled from downstairs, her sharp voice made piercing by the sheer size of the house. "Toby might be coming down with a cold, so if he shows any sign of discomfort, call..."  
  
As her stepmother was blabbing, Sarah left her room and once again leaned over the balcony with an air of sarcasm.  
  
"Yes, Madame!" she retorted.  
  
"That's it, Sarah, I give up!" her stepmother said, her fur coated arms flying up in aggravation. Her father and stepmother opened the front door and began to leave for their dinner party, where Sarah knew they would try to forget about the burden they'd left at home. But even in the company of their exclusive friends at a very exclusive restaurant, they could never really escape their problems, just as Sarah couldn't escape the inevitable quest that lye shortly ahead of her.  
  
Sarah's stepmother had one more thing to say before their departure.  
  
"And don't open the door to any strangers."  
  
What a ridiculous thing to say! Sarah thought as her parents closed the door behind them. She found the request insulting; her stepmother actually thinking she would open the door to a stranger. 


	2. Visitor

2  
  
Her parents having left, Sarah continued her search for Lancelot. She reluctantly searched every room in the house, coming last upon the room she dreaded; Toby's room. She entered the room quietly, not wanting to wake Toby. She stopped suddenly as the wood floor creaked under her step. Her breath caught in her chest, not daring to move. As she stood in the quiet, innocent stillness of Toby's nursery, Sarah watched his little chest rise up and down as he slept. In this moment, she thought, he wasn't so bad after all. But moments are so fleeting, and one moments bliss can easily turn into another moment's hate. Tucked neatly beneath the covers beside Toby was Lancelot, Sarah's most treasured stuffed bear.  
  
"Give me back my bear!" she screamed, snatching the bear from Toby's cradle, her eyes clouding up. She did not take the bear especially violently, but roughly enough to uncover Toby and send him screaming. Sarah ran to her room, flopping down on her bed as tears streamed down her flushed face. Holding Lancelot tightly to her chest, she tried to block out the crying coming from the other room, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Merlin, who had been lying on the floor, stood up and licked Sarah's face with his warm tongue.  
  
"It's not fair, Merlin." Sarah half-whispered, her voice quivering.  
  
Another burst of screams came from Toby's room. Now the look on Sarah's face turned from a look of sadness and self-pity to anger. Rising from her bed, she threw Lancelot across the room and stomped into Toby's nursery.  
  
Many times in the past had Sarah been furiously mad at Toby, or, rather, jealous of the reverent attention he received from her parents. Many times had her inspired imagination concocted horrible scenarios in which Toby was at peril. But never had she said these things out loud, for an unspoken fear that they might come true. Now, Sarah could not help but release her mounting tension.  
  
"Would you like to hear a story about what happens to little babies like you, Toby?" Toby's howls faded to loud whimpers.  
  
"Alright then. Once there was a little baby boy... a spoiled little boy. His parents loved him so, and paid no attention to their daughter." Her voice became theatrical and once again, the actress had taken over.  
  
"The girl hated the little boy because he was so perfect in his parent's eyes, while her parents saw her as worthless. But what none of them knew was that the girl had a dark secret. The goblin King had given her the ability to summon his henchmen to take the little boy away into the Goblin City whenever she wanted... All she had to do..." Sarah's voice trailed off, as she began to view her situation from another perspective. Her dramatic speech began to seem pretty ridiculous now. But even so, she wished with all her being that what she'd said were true. Looking down at Merlin, who stood by her side, his big eyes looking questioningly up at her, she whispered what was needed to let the Labyrinth loose. "I wish goblins would take him away."  
  
Toby's soft whimpering was the only sound in the room when the chiming sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Sarah looked over at Toby, who had inexplicably stopped crying, his eyes wide with panic. Because it had been light outside when her parents left, there were no lights on in the house, and now the house was eerily dark. A heavy sensation grew in the pit of her stomach as she suddenly became aware that she was all alone. She tiptoed down the stairs and came to the front door. Looking through the peep hole, she could see the moonlit silhouette of a tall, angular figure. At first, she could not tell whether it was a man or a woman, but at more careful inspection, its face revealed that it was indeed a man. He wore a royal blue velvet jacket with tails, a white shirt with frills on the cuffs underneath, and black slacks and glistening, pointy patent leather shoes. He had a strange, worldly, or rather, other worldly air about him, his clothes immaculately crisp, his age undeterminable. Sarah found something about him terribly captivating, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was. Cautiously, she cracked open the door, keeping the bolted lock in place. Tension rushed into the quiet air like a flood. Sarah's heart began pounding violently, and she desperately hoped that the man wouldn't notice the anxiety plainly written across her face. The man smiled and spoke.  
  
"Excuse me, is this the home of Miss Sarah Williams?" he asked in a rich British accent.  
  
"Yes... may I as who wants to know?" Sarah asked.  
  
"Charles Augins." The man replied, bowing slightly at the waist.  
  
Charles Augins; a name Sarah had heard countless times before, the most notable occasion being when she first read its inscription on the cover of her favorite play. Her face lit up in star-struck ecstasy. She was standing inches away from her favorite playwright.  
  
"You wrote Labyrinth!" she said, simultaneously opening the door as far as the lock would permit.  
  
"Yes Ma'am, I did." Charles answered, chuckling slightly.  
  
"Just a second." Sarah said, reaching for the lock. But as she did so, her hand hovered over it as her mothers last words echoed in her mind like a nagging conscience. Don't open the door to any strangers. Sarah quickly dismissed the voice and opened the door. Charles entered and extended an elegantly gloved hand.  
  
"It is an honor, Miss Williams." Sarah, expecting to shake his hand, placed her delicate hand in his, and in one graceful, swift movement Charles bent over and politely kissed it. Sarah's head was reeling. She stood in silence for a moment, not knowing or for that matter really caring what she should say next. Had she been at all nervous about what to say, she would have been relieved, because Charles abruptly interrupted the silence.  
  
"I understand that you make a wonderful Augustine." he said, his smile broadening.  
  
"Well, we've just started rehearsing... but how did you know?"  
  
"I was passing through this part of the country when I heard that the first amateur production of it was going to be put on here. I was looking forward to attending it's opening, but was given a wonderful preview of it as I walked by your house earlier this evening."  
  
"You know we were supposed to open tonight, but we got delayed... the firemen had to use the hall."  
  
Sarah voice was less tensed now, her suspicions having all but vanished.  
  
"Yes, so I heard. That's why I've come to see you."  
  
A thunderous crash came from upstairs followed by the shrill sound of a baby's cry. Sarah startled, while Charles didn't even flinch, a rather fiendish smile spreading across his face. A strange mix of annoyance and worry crowded Sarah's thoughts at the prospect of having to leave Charles standing alone downstairs while she investigated the sound that she feared had emanated from Toby's nursery. For one magical moment, Sarah had completely forgotten her problems, and now the fragile illusion had been shattered.  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes. "That's my brother... I'm so sorry, Mr. Augins, I'll be right back!"  
  
She galloped up the stairs and into Toby's nursery and found the large window by his crib blown wide open by the storms furious wind. Toby was standing up in his crib screaming with fright, tears streaming down his red face.  
  
"Oh, Toby." Sarah said, picking him up and bouncing him on her hip to quiet him while she closed the window. "Shhh... it's ok." As she did so, she thought about Charles. How privileged she was to meet him! She smiled at the thought of recalling his visit to her comrades in the theater troupe, and began to imagine what approach she would use when doing so. "You won't believe what happened last night..." she said quietly to herself. "Guess who paid me a visit last night..." In her mind she then ran over what had happened thus far, making sure not to leave out any details... his shiny shoes, his ruffled sleeves, his deep, velvety smooth voice. Wait. Sarah stood completely still. She came to a spine chilling realization.  
  
"Perhaps I can soothe him." Sarah gasped and whirled around to see Charles leaning against the door frame with a glass of brandy in his hand. He began walking towards Sarah with a cooked smile on his face, in a manner of nonchalance that made Sarah nervous.  
  
"Oh, no really, it's alright." Sarah said, her eyes darting about the room, not wanting to meet Charles'.  
  
"No, Sarah. It isn't alright. Look! Toby's crying." Now Charles was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with eyes so intense that Sarah could feel their intensity even though she wasn't looking at them. Sarah stepped back, hoping to elude his commanding presence. Charles reached out to grab Toby from Sarah's arms, and Sarah could not bring herself to resist. Charles walked towards the door carrying Toby, gently bouncing him as he balanced his half-empty glass in one hand. He began to hum a song, one that Sarah recognized but couldn't remember where she'd heard before. Then, softly, he began singing. All the room appeared to be listening, for all was quiet, including Toby, who stared at Charles' face.  
  
I saw my baby trying hard as he could try  
  
What could I do?  
  
My baby's love had gone  
  
And left my baby blue  
  
I asked myself what could I do for he?  
  
He looks so sad because of she  
  
What kind of spell to use?  
  
Slimy snails and puppy dog tails  
  
To make a magic brew  
  
Sarah stood motionless; entranced by this strange man's hauntingly beautiful voice. Charles stopped singing and smiled a warm, tooth bearing smile at the silenced babe in his arms. Suddenly, Sarah was impressed with the foreboding, gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong. Perhaps Toby too sensed the danger, because he erupted into another fit of tears.  
  
"I don't think you should be up here." Sarah said, her eyes meeting Charles'.  
  
"I only want to help." Charles said, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. Sarah took Toby from Charles and placed him in his crib.  
  
"Please leave... I'm going to get it trouble. I don't care to talk about the play." Sarah said, tucking Toby in and needlessly rearranging the stuffed animals in his crib.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
Sarah turned around, her eyes wide, mouth agape, shoulders raised with tension.  
  
"What?" she said, hoping her ears had deceived her.  
  
"I don't care to talk about the play either, Sarah." Charles said, setting his glass down carefully on a nightstand and then standing with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling with a furrowed brow all the while. "You aren't the girl I thought you were, Sarah... A genius actress. I can't have this conversation with an ordinary girl who takes care of a mulling infant."  
  
Sarah's shoulders dropped as she bit her bottom lip and stared at the shiny wood floor. What Charles said struck a meaningful chord.  
  
"Goodbye, Miss Williams." Charles said, shaking her lifeless hand. He briskly left the room, the stairs creaking as he descended them.  
  
"Wait!" Sarah yelled, running to catch Charles before he reached the door. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked over the railing, her hair hanging on either side of her face. "Please, Mr. Augins."  
  
Charles looked up, his hand resting tentatively on the door handle.  
  
"Things aren't always as they seem." Sarah said.  
  
"My point exactly, Miss Williams!" Charles replied, laughing as he spoke.  
  
"No, it's my point, Sir!" she stood silent for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through her mind at once.  
  
"Who are you really?" she asked. She could feel the color draining from her face, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. The mysterious stranger walked slowly away from the door, and for what felt to Sarah like an eternity, the room was silent. "For goodness sake, Sarah! What is it that you'd like me to be?" he asked, raising his arms and shrugging his shoulders in frustration. "Goodbye." Then he opened the front door and walked out into the dark, drizzly night, not looking back even once. 


	3. It's Not Fair

3  
  
For a moment, Sarah stood staring dumbly at the open door, trying to collect her thoughts as the slight, dark figure crossed the street and faded into darkness. What to make of this strange encounter, she did not know. The more sense she tried to make of it, the more confused she became. Quietly, thoughtfully, she made her way up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she carefully pulled back the covers on her bed and slithered underneath, day-clothes and all. He couldn't have been Charles Augins, she thought. Charles Gerard Augins was born in West Virginia and has lived there ever since. Whoever his imposter was, he obviously had not done his homework and made a terrible flaw by speaking in an unmistakably British accent. She lye on her side and could see Lancelot sprawled chest up on the floor, glowing with iridescent moonlight from the window. Why me? Why? Sarah asked herself. It isn't fair. Tired and perplexed, Sarah slowly drifted to sleep to the rhythmic lullaby of the rain tapping against the roof.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Once again, a thousand thank-yous to those who have read and reviewed my story! DON'T WORRY, THIS IS NOT THE END!!  
  
-Danae 


End file.
